


Decipio - Severus Snape/Reader

by munchkin03



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Difference, Canon Universe, Dating, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Gay, Gay Male Character, Homosexuality, M/M, Male Homosexuality, POV First Person, POV Severus Snape, Reader-Insert, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Secrets, Slow Romance, Teacher-Student Relationship, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-05-21 09:32:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14912858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/munchkin03/pseuds/munchkin03
Summary: You have become the latest hire of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, as the professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts. However, there had always been an unexplainable jinx to the position. You navigate your way through the year, while Potions Master Severus Snape attempts to stop your dark past from creeping into school premises.





	1. Chapter 1

**Your P.O.V.**

The Great Hall is occupied by an infinite number of candles, and the line of students that has begun to enter when the two large doors at the back of the room opened. Some have claimed seats at one of the four long tables at their respected houses, others stand at the isle of the room. Those who stand have a mixture of astonished and anxious expressions, as it is their first time at Hogwarts.

I reminisce of when I was part of either groups, as a student. But that time had past. Today, I sit in the High Table at the very front of the Great Hall, with the rest of the school staff. I feel just as thrilled to be there as I had when I first walked past the doors of Hogwarts.

The start-of-term feast begins, as the first year students anxiously wait their turn to sit under the sorting hat. It is a long process, and when that is through the headmaster Dumbledore keeps his welcoming ceremony short. And finally, he announces my hire.

“I would like you all to greet the newest member of our faculty, the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor (Y/F/N) (Y/L/N),” he broadcasts, and I stand to receive the recognition and applause from both the student body and my fellow teachers.

He then commences the meal, and we all dive into the dishes in front of us. I acquaint myself with those who had taken a seat beside me, many of whom had been my own professors. Although I still call them formally out of habit, we have a more casual conversation at dinner. It is easier, I believe, as I had grown in the few years I was out of Hogwarts.

After dinner, I have a task as a professor that goes beyond the classroom. I patrol the castle towers as the area had been assigned to my name, and just as I am ready to leave after a quick but thorough search for any misbehaving students, I run into Hogwarts’ Potion’s Master. Which was odd, as I know very well from my years as a student that he is only required to patrol the dungeons. (Oh, don’t judge me. I wasn’t _model_ student, I had my fair share of sneaking out at night!)

“Professor Snape!” I call out, catching his attention. He is just as I remember him: greasy hair that frames his face, in the pigment black that matches his piercing eyes, both stand out against his pale complexion, and his large, hooked nose. He still wore the same black robes, as if he knew that _menacing_ was his branding and that he took pride in it. And finally, the same expression he gives me now is the same as the 2 years I’ve had him as my NEWT professor in potion’s class, one that seemed to say, _“ _I despise you_.” _ Time did not seem to have touched him.

Nevertheless, I force myself to smile despite my natural instinct to turn around and run. I repeat to myself that I am now a professor, and not some student terrified of the Head of the rivalling house.

“Professor (Y/L/N),” he says in the same soft and contained voice he always had. I remember the days when he would hiss my name, sending a chill down my spine. My first thought would have been, “ _How many points from Gryffindor this time?_ ” Perhaps if I accumulated all of the lost points, I could make a house of my own and win first in the house cup points yearly competition. I always felt like he had a special dislike towards me, but maybe it was only because of the grudge he held against my house, Gryffindor. However, I try not to think of this while I am face-to-face with the professor so to keep from scowling.

“I see you’ve stayed true to your promise,” he remarks.

I give him an apologetic smile at the mention of that arrogant and thoughtless bet I had made him during my last year as a student. “I hope you do not take my words from then against me. Those were said out of spite, but I have truly come to desire my being a professor of this field.”

“Of course,” he replies I am compelled to believe those are empty words. His eyes says different, and his face does not move—then again, he never makes any expression different from his stoic one. I am not disappointed, however, because I never expect an easy forgiveness from a Slytherin. Especially from their Head.

“Good night then, Professor,” he quickly says, cutting the conversation short.

Before I can say it back, he is already walking. “Good night!” I say after him, but I am not sure if he hears me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That concludes my first submission to this website! Thank you so much for reading. I know that not much has happened, and you might be in for a rather slow start. But patience can bring great results. Hope you tune in for the next chapter. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe you can tell already that I have no talent at making titles or chapter names.

**Severus Snape’s P.O.V.**

I am called to Dumbledore’s office the same night of the start-of-term feast. So after my nightly patrol, I escape the comforts of the dungeons and climb up to the castle towers. Day after day, I am often trapped between my Potions Class and personal chambers, both of which are in the dungeons, with occasional visits to the library and mandatory Great Hall meetings and meals. Thus, the times I do have an excuse to be up here in the towers, I take it all in. The cool wind at a fine evening such as this one, although makes me shiver when I first feel it, is rather pleasant. The paintings here are much less memorized, and the flooring much less walked. The open walls allow me to see all of Hogwarts, and reminds me the of beauty of something so familiar. However, I find similarity during the night time at the towers to the dimly lit dungeons with shadows ever lurking. 

I do not anticipate my running into former student and now fellow professor Professor (Y/L/N). Although his features are still familiar, and that he had always looked mature for his age, they are much more refined now. He has grown out his (Your Hair Color) hair, his (Your Eye Color) eyes shine with more wisdom, and he stands a little taller than before. He finally learned how to fit into his clothes, but I am not one to speak.

He was quite the clever student, being able to maintain a spot in my NEWT potions class. But he caused me great trouble, some of which he is unaware of. I do plan on sparing the details. And much like many Gryffindor, he was sometimes too daring and often too proud to admit it. Perhaps he had outgrown those characteristics, but Gryffindor rarely outgrow arrogance. I did plan on ignoring his appearance, but when he greets me, I decide that I acquaint myself with the professor. 

“Professor (Y/L/N),” I reply. “I see you’ve stayed true to your promise.” This promise being his haughty declaration of his ambition to be a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor before me, a ploy he had come up with in his 7th and final year at Hogwarts when he found out I was unable to do so for two years straight. I found the challenge rude and absurd, and had not taken it seriously. At least, not until today.

He gives me an apologetic smile. “I hope you do not take my words from then against me. Those were said out of spite, but I’ve truly come to desire my being a professor of this field.”

“Of course,” I say, but I am guilty of not meaning it. And I know that he is aware of this. I bid him good night and take my leave before the unwanted conversation could drag on any longer. I am sure he rather goes on his own separate way as well.

“Good night!”

I finally reach the headmaster’s office without further delay, apart from the gargoyle that asks me of a password, to which I respond with Dumbledore’s favorite sweets. (It’s sherbet lemon.) When I reach the door, I give three loud knocks. I hear a muffled “Come in!” and push them open. In the middle of the circular room cluttered with strange objects and the occasional noises coming from them was Dumbledore, resting at his desk and expecting.

“Dumbledore, you called for me.”

“Yes,” he replies. “It is about our latest hire, Professor (Y/L/N).”

Suddenly, I know what he wants me to do. It is the same with the previous professors of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, and that was because of “You want me to watch over him,” I say slowly, speaking his thoughts with no use of magic or _Legilimency_. “You want me to find something out about him.”

He nods his head, with a grim expression on his face. “That is right.” He stands up from his chair with little difficulty, considering his age, and walks over to where I stand. Closer, I can see the emotions in his eyes—worry, anxiousness. Time taught him to hide this feelings, even his eyes can lie, but Dumbledore trusts me that he shows himself bare. “I met Professor (Y/L/N) while he was at a bad place.”

 “What do you know?” I ask, my curiosity growing. I start to imagine all sorts of bad scenarios, most of which involving the Dark Lord.

“That we all have a past that haunts us, Professor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm debating whether to dedicate the whole next chapter to the whole backstory, or ease it in little by little. Though, I'm probably going to do the latter since I love suspense. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Your P.O.V.**

 I wake up before sunrise, and find myself unable to fall back asleep. I attempt to for half an hour, but realize I am far too excited for the day ahead to calm myself down—the event of the day, that has been the obsession of my thoughts, being the first day of classes. Despite knowing it is the same classroom I have familiarized myself in for 7 years as a student, I find exhilaration in _teaching_ the class I once had been the learner in. But with this excitement, comes the anxiety. I quiet my worries on how I could possible ruin the day or at the very least, embarrass myself. I decide that the best way to do so is head to the Great Hall early for a delicious breakfast.

The corridors are dark and silent, but not as scary when I know that light is very soon to come. It is easy to guess that everyone must still be in slumber at this hour, and there is a certain serenity I feel when I think of that.

I reach the Great Hall with quick and quiet steps. I open the two great doors just as the first rays of sunlight start pouring through the windows, and I find myself face with a beautiful scenery. The room is coated with a golden hue, apart from the great shadows the tables and chair create. It is somehow prettier than the evening, when all the candles in the ceiling flicker with flames. The dawn challenges the picturesque of the night by basking the Hall with its secret beauty that few lucky early risers would get to witness.

 And in the light sits a man at the High Table. It takes me a moment to recognize it is Professor Snape. I stare for too long, and I know this because he feels it and looks up. He had a look of surprise, but immediately replaces it with concern. I raise my hand to wave, but he already refocuses on his meal and looks down.

‘ _Clearly,_ ’ I think. ‘ _He does not appreciate my company._ ’ However, I find a strange confidence inside me that makes me walk on over to the High Table and make myself comfortable in the seat beside him.

He does not say anything at first, and there is a moment of complete silence between us as we eat. “Have you noticed the size of this room?” Professor Snape finally comments. He lifts his head from his plate and looks at me with an impatient expression. “There is no reason for you to be anywhere near me.”

I reserve a smile to myself because the familiarity of his snarky remarks helps calm my nerves. “I suppose,” I reply, and nothing more. I think this is the end of the conversation when he engages me again. 

“Is there something you would like to say?”

I ponder upon this for a moment and say, “It’s beautiful in here.”

I see his lips twitch slightly upward, and I think, ‘ _That’s different from his condescending smirk._ ’ He looks ahead, to the Great Hall and the final moments of the golden hour. His face melts into calm and satisfaction, almost like a trance, and then I think, ‘ _Perhaps dawn is not the only sight to behold._ ’

“It is,” he whispers.

I realize this is a different side of Professor Snape that I have never witnessed before. Perhaps this opportunity away from the title of Teacher-Student that may have caused a strain in our relationship and in turn my impression of him, opens a door for me to discover different expressions he can possess other than the condescending and impatient looks I am so used to. I feel my previous judgement of him as a strict and no-fun professor waver, and I soften a bit.

He notices my staring too long. “Quit that gawking. You look like a fool.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I directly quoted a line from Hogwarts Mystery. Professor Snape's "Have you noticed the size of this room? There is no reason for you to be anywhere near me." cx


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I previously planned on alternating the POV of Snape and the Reader, but found it easier for me to break my own rules. xd +I gave up on chapter naming, I just suck. Also I suck at chapter summaries so fuck it all.

**Your P.O.V.**

I wait to enter the classroom 5 minutes after period starts, which did not mean I am late because it is within grace period. This is so I do not seem _too_ excited on my first day in the job. But if my skittish tendencies like my fumbling hands or tapping feet are deemed noticeable, it is pretty obvious that I am.

I walk to the front of the classroom and turn around to face the students. I plaster a smile across my face, hoping to look friendly but still like a figure of authority. “Good morning, class!” I greet. “I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor starting today. You may refer to me as Professor (Y/L/N).” 

With that said, I start the class orientation. I explain the curriculum they have for the year, and to my pleasure I have a few inquisitive students asking very good questions. I already have a good feeling that my classes will be just as lively as this one. Everything is going great, until I catch a few students exchange notes in class near the end of class.

I sigh. “Excuse me, but I would like your full attention during class,” I say sternly. I extend my hand, showing my palm, gesturing they surrender the slip of paper that has served to be the source of their distraction. Although hesitantly, they do so.

“You’re all dismissed,” I say, and return to my desk. A few students greet me goodbye, others just pack their bag and leave as fast as they can. The students from earlier approach me and apologize profusely. Of course, I forgive them and let them go, saying I don’t hold grudges. They seem relieved and scurry along. When I am alone in the room, I finally unfold the note.

_What do you think is wrong with this one?_

_Don’t talk about Professor (Y/L/N) like that, he seems nice!_

_Nice doesn’t mean normal, LOL._

I purse my lips and crumple the note. “ _Incendo_ ,” I whisper, and burn the piece of paper in the palm of my hands.

“Excuse me, is this the Defense Against the Dark Arts class?” a voice asked. 

I quickly close my hands to a fist and turn around to find the source of the voice. It is a student, assumingly a first year student. I put on another smile.

“Yes, it is. Welcome!”

The rest of the day is filled with classes not so different from my first. The first years are more shy, but give them a few days and they’ll start warming up to each other. They won’t be as rowdy as the seventh years (yet) but they’ll get into trouble too. I smile to myself at that thought, remembering my own days when I was a little pranker myself.

After dinner at the Great Hall, I patrol the castle towers again and then head to the library. I plan to read over the required reading to brush up on my knowledge for when real lessons start tomorrow. I find a minor difficulty while searching for the specific title I have in mind, but soon it is in my hands and I am sitting at one of the many rows of tables and chairs.

I open to the first chapter of _The Essential Defense Against the Dark Arts_. The reading material my students are expected to read. In fact, the book is the exact same volume as mine. ‘ _Magic didn’t change that much for the last 5 years_.’ I thought. Maybe I could spice things up in class with my own knowledge of the field.

Just then, I hear the floorboard scratch and I whip my head upwards in surprise. I almost jump. But my eyes settle on Professor Snape, carrying a couple of books—potions books, to be more specific—in his arms.

“Professor Snape!” I call out, and he glances towards me as he sits down.

“Professor (Y/L/N),” he replies. “How was your first day?”

I bite my lower lip, trying to keep myself from smiling too wide. As a matter of fact, I have many things to say about today: the constant feeling of excitement and nervousness that churned inside my stomach the whole day; how classes went rather _perfectly_ , and how surprisingly lovely the students were which gave me an odd sense of satisfaction I did not think I would feel; how I might actually have a knack for this job, how I have started liking it more than I thought I would, and that I think I found some form of unexplainable happiness being a part of this community. So that’s what I tell him, and he listens. 

“I’ve never even thought about being a teacher before Dumbledore asked me to,” I share. “And I was so hesitant at first! But, maybe it’s meant to be.”

Professor Snape nods, oddly withholding any snarky comments or sarcasm that could be storming his mind. And I realize I have talked to long and blush, lowering my eyes and muttering a quick, “Sorry, I must be wasting your time.”

He only shakes his head, and although he does not offer me a smile, his gaze gives me some strange comfort. I have become more friendly with the professor than I thought possible. “I must admit I did not expect for you to narrate me a whole _novel_ , but I’m glad you had an excellent day.”

I stare, because he is being so kind right now and that is a rarity I would like to soak up—you never know the next time you will see it, it’s possible you will never see it again. And he notices this, and cocks his head to the side in question and his eyes pierces me with a snarky “ _What?_ ”

I clear my throat, and decide to turn the conversation to him. “Are those potions books for tomorrow?” I ask, gesturing to the pile of books he had set beside him earlier.

He glances at them, as if he had forgotten they were there for a moment. “Ah, yes. I am reviewing the material for NEWT class tomorrow. One can never be too ready.”

I am then flooded with 2-years worth of memories on Professor Snape’s classes. Not all of them were good, definitely: the most prominent memories would be the look of contempt he would give me, how he always seemed to have a clever insult to bark at me, the many, _many_ times he would smack my head when he thought I was being too much of a _dunderhead_. But the merriment of potion brewing itself was enough to bring a nostalgic look on my face.

“I kind of miss potions class,” I voice my thoughts out loud. “Even though you were really mean to me.”

“You definitely weren’t my _favorite_ student,” Professor Snape says, cautiously eyeing me as if he were threading along a field of landmines.

I find it odd, and find myself saying, “In fact, I feel as if you hated me _most_. I wonder why is that.”

Professor Snape does not give up anything with his body language. Even his eyes do not look away from me—it pierces me still, daring me to ask more questions. As much as I would like to away myself, I hold my ground.

“Because you were a Gryffindor, Professor (Y/L/N). Why else?”

I remain unconvinced. But I also do not want to push it. There is still an underlying fear I have for the Potion’s Master that shuts me up. The night continues, and we do not talk any further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I haven't updated as fast as I first did, I present a longer chapter, LOL. At first I just had some internal conflict about how the story will progress, and then I just became lazy. Also school is starting in 2 days, college exams is in 2 months, and I honestly have a suppressed panic about all of that, haha.


End file.
